


It started with one...

by TheWanderingMuse



Series: Fifty Shades of Super [1]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Drunk Kara Danvers, F/F, SuperCorp, joining trash party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-01 18:43:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8633890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWanderingMuse/pseuds/TheWanderingMuse
Summary: My take on post 2x06. Kara Danvers is having a really bad day and Lena comes to her rescue.Prequel to 'Two Good to be True'





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revised with grammar corrections.

Sitting at the back in one of the booths, the blonde amuses herself with a rum and coke mixers. She has had a tiring day - nineteen hours to be precise. She sips her drink and recalls the last few days in resigned contemplation.

First, she forgets to interview one of the cops on duty the night of Parasite terrorized the streets of National City. Snapper Carr had taken one look at her article and thrown it back. “Get your cutesy bubble head back in the game, Danvers, or get out. Stop wasting my time. Find out who this tin can dude is. You have the next twenty-four hours.”

“It’s lead ac-,” Kara blurts but holds her tongue when his beady eyes shift sideways towards the door. She leaves without so much as a retort, strangling the urge to laser his favorite holder of red pens.By the time she found the officer, she had had to change directions at least three times to stop a bank robbery, evacuate factory workers from a power plant that was about to explode, and to put out a forest fire.

She stops by Noonan’s for a well-deserved sticky bun where she had intended to stay for an hour to re-edit the article on the mysterious Guardian, only to receive a ping ten minutes into devouring the overly sinful treat.

 

**Hey Kara, is Mon El with you?**

 

_No... Is he not at the DEO?_

 

**I’m sure it’s nothing, but he didn’t return to the DEO, not that he has a curfew. Could you check Happy Hour for me please? Hank is in, like, a suppperr good mood.**

 

_Sure.. He’s probably drunk-flirting with some fin chick._

 

***

 

Being a good superhero, Kara checks out Happy Hour and his ahem-not so desirable job. Both places turn up to be dead ends. M’gann comments that he hasn’t shown up and the blue chick says she misses him.

 

She heads back to the DEO, stands with her back ramrod straight, jaw taut. She ‘awwed’ when the monitors show them the surveillance footage of Mon El helping a homeless guy. Her heart swelled with pride, and then it shatters and her hands clench into fists, resisting the urge to slam them into something as this so-called pretender throws off the blanket and jabs her friend with high voltage cattle prods, and whisking him away in an unidentified van.

 

All Kara can feel is guilt gnawing at her. If she hadn’t insisted Daxamite changing for the better, he wouldn’t have been captured by the very people who had Jeremiah in custody. She follows the motions numbly as one of the Fort Razz’s aliens toss DEO agents aside like rag dolls. She gets so distracted in the middle of the fight that she never saw the punch coming. He decks her straight in the gut; Kara grunts and swings wildly. The prisoner sidesteps her and grabs her cape from behind, and throws her through a wall.

 

It takes two times longer than she normally would to apprehend him with reinforced specially designed cuffs. She slinks into the infirmary and slouches on one of the cots. Alex tends to her injuries silently and efficiently. There’s no small chit chat between them. The tension was so thick. By the time, Kara finds the courage to say something, Alex has refocused her attention back to the microscope.

 

She exits the DEO and scours for all the possible locations that Cadmus would be but the search comes up empty. Of all the places to wind back in, Kara finds herself back at the bar, in her civilian clothes.

 

If Mon El was here, he would be berating her for drinking human alcohol. She flags down M’gann and orders herself a glass of Aldebaranian rum. Kara swirls the yellow liquid around and then knocks it back. Light and floating. Ridden of the guilt, remorse, anger raging underneath.

 

One glass slowly turns to two, and soon she becomes one of the last few patrons. When she is told by M’gann to go home, she whines and pouts to no avail. M’gann threatens to call J’honn and Kara surrenders.

 

_Hii. I nid a flavor._

 

**_Hello Kara. Is something wrong?_ **

 

_I dont wnt 2b a bother but she’s goin to kik me out_

 

**_Kara… are you drunk?~_ **

**_Where are you now? I’m leaving the office_ **

 

_@Hapyhoourr_

 

**_I’m fifteen minutes out. Just hold on, alright Kara? I’m coming._ **


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. I have a confession to make. I really didn't think it was good enough to warrant another chapter... that, and I only jumped onto the bandwagon because I wanted (needed) more traffic on my old works on a dying rare pairing.  
> But I screwed up my sleep schedule since returning from Italy so... you guys get a second chapter. ^^
> 
> MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAVE A HAPPY NEW YEAR!

In a state of half-organized clutter, the slick pristine white desk with three drawers on the right hand side, black swivel chair, Mac book Pro, and several pieces of paperwork filled of numerous reports litter the entire table. Her only companion in her stark office is a barely touched glass of red wine.

Letting a frustrated sigh, Lena Luthor flicks a page over and circles another figure on the report, her eyes flickering occasionally to the laptop. Her phone vibrates with a chime and she thinks of ignoring it in favor of finishing looking through this report. However, it’s been a few hours of staring and frowning at the figures which weren’t matching up.

She makes another note at the uppermost top and reaches for her phone. It’s a text message from Kara Danvers.

Amused at the unusual text style coming from the cute blonde reporter, Lena hesitantly texts back in concern. It’s not like Kara to send a sentence punctuated with mis-spellings and the millennials’ version of shorthand - combining numbers with letters.

She pauses her texting and checks the time. What could Kara be possibly doing up at… 1am?!

 

_Kara… are you drunk?~_

 

Since meeting the adorable reporter, she has yet to see Kara inhaling any concoctions of alcohol. A burst of worry blooms up at the thought of Kara, bubbly and a dazzling smile ready at hand, possibly and quite probably drunk at a bar - alone, packed against nameless strangers with unknown intentions.

She types out another message and hits send without waiting for a reply. By the time, her phone chimes in with another message clearly stating that Kara Danvers is exactly where Lena has correctly deduced, her scattered paperwork is already stacked into a neat pile.

 

**_@Hapyhoourr_ **

 

Striding out of the office, she makes her way towards the elevators whilst calling out to her assistant without so much a glance. “Jess, get me my driver.”

She nods, barely hears the affirmation, and enters the elevator with panic already gripping her. Her thumbs fly rapidly across the screen. The thought of Kara drunk at a bar while some over-zealous perv decides to take advantage of her caring, understanding _friend_ sends alarm bells ringing.

 

_I’m fifteen minutes out. Just hold on, alright Kara? I’m coming._

 

 

She finds the nondescript place behind a closed warehouse factory and frowns in confusion. Of all the places in this city, she has to find Kara in this… sorry state of a graffitied, dingy shack bar. And when Lena bangs her fist at the metal bolted door, the metal grate reveals a grunt with three-eyes blinking back.

“Password,” it ~~grunts~~ snorts.

Lena stares blankly until the alien ~~mutters~~ burps that she finds herself scrambling to get over the shock.

“Wait- Wait, I’m looking for my friend. Kara Danvers. Blonde. Wears glasses. Is this tall,” she interrupts, gesturing with her hands.

 

Kara Danvers drunk in an alien bar sounds so much worse than she thought possible.

 

The metal grate shuts and then Lena hears the door unlocking and sliding open to reveal a dark-skinned woman, jet black hair tied up in a bun holding up Kara Danvers, slurring, pouting, and fidgeting in place.

“Here,” the stranger says as a way of introducing herself.

“Kara,” Lena breathes in a relief and then goes around the other side to prop Kara up. “My car’s just straight ahead.”

Kara turns her head and Lena nearly freezes in mid-step when the blonde shifts, tucking her face into her neckline.

A soft hum vibrates against her pale skin.

Lena writes it off as Kara - her friend - merely adjusting to the new addition (being her). Her hands grip Kara’s right hip tighter. It has nothing to do with the warm ghosting of hot breath against her throat.

“You smell nice. Like reaallyy nice. What is it? Is- is that blackberry…?”

Lena’s face burns which makes her glad for the dim street lights. Her car is just a few more steps ahead. She can gather whatever remaining composure she has left and rearrange her features to an impassive Luthor mask.

Glancing to the side where the helpful stranger - human but it could be an alien shapeshifter - she shouldn’t judge; she clears her throat. “Out of curiosity, how many drinks has she already had?”

Kara’s head snap up so quickly that her forehead connects against Lena’s jaw; and wow; the action sends her seeing stars.

“Only tree! Mmm not drunk. I- I just feel like… I cann flyy.”

Her sudden wild gesturing leaves them in a lurch as they both struggle to contain the over-enthusiastic journalist, stumbling in the middle.

The brunette seems amused and rather unbothered by Kara’s behavior that it has Lena wondering if Kara is a regular. She shrugs, the corners of her lips tugging with a faint smile.

 

 

“Five.”

Kara’s eyes widen and darts her bright, radiant blue eyes towards her.

“I diiid nott!! That- that’s a lie. Leennaa, I swear to Rao, it just feeelsss soo good. Light annndd… flooatyy.”

The brunette shakes her head. “Technically, if you were speaking of the different types of drinks you ordered, Kara, then yes; you ordered three different types but you literally tried to polish my half-finished tumbler of Al- uhm whiskey.”

 

Suspicion creeps in and her brow crinkles in confusion and worry.

“But you hate whiskey.”

She thinks back to all the times Kara has gone to her office and interviewed her; all those times Lena had offered her something stronger, Kara simply blushes, ducks her head, and shakes her head firmly. She knows all too well, the aftermath that comes with polished glass bottles and the self-loathing at the end.

 

It takes some teamwork and cooperative wrangling to get the one uncoordinated, rambling reporter into the backseat of her car.

“Thanks.” Lena removes a wad of bills and gives them to the bartender.

“Oh no, this is too much. She didn’t really order that much.”

But Lena, insistent as ever, pushes them into the brunette’s palm. “I insist. Please. Thank you for helping me with Kara.”

She finally nods, to Lena’s relief. “Just- make sure she gets home safe.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read way too many drunk Kara fics and they were all running along the same theme so being me, I had to think of something different so as to set this up in a different light. Hope you enjoy~ and I'm sorry it took so long to update.

“Where to next, Miss Lena?”

The question startles the CEO out of contemplation as her fingers comb through the golden blonde locks. She bites her bottom lip in deep thought, frowning for a moment at the thought of bringing Kara back to her townhouse. It would only serve to complicate matters and she had no intentions of placing her only friend in National City into her world embroiled by scandals and tarnished history.

“Take us to Kara’s apartment.”

She’s been to Kara’s apartment once. It had been surprisingly easy to find one Kara Danvers on social media.

Since the dive bar was located on the other side of the town, the journey back to the reporter’s place was a good twenty minutes with minimum traffic on the expressway. She feels the car roll to a stop and the car door swings open with Marcus waiting, attentive as ever.

Lena smiles and nudges her slumbering companion in the shoulder. “Kara sweetie, wake up. We’re back at your apartment.”

No matter how many nudges or sweet caressing attempts were made in favor, the blonde stayed curled up to the other side of the seat, snoring softly.

Just when she considers taking out her mist bottle to spray Kara’s face, Marcus pipes in quietly, “I can carry her, Miss Lena. It wouldn’t be a problem.”

He goes around to the other side of the car while Lena steps out, grabbing both of their bags. Between a gentle reminder of “Careful, watch her head,” and Marcus’s quiet huffs, Lena hides a chuckle at his comment. “She’s heavy for someone so slender and delicate.”

She’s unsure whether it’s the elevator lights or the jerkiness that has Kara suddenly blinking owlishly at Marcus. Despite still being drunk on sleep and whatever she had earlier, Kara questions him anyway.

“Carle, is that you? Since when did you grow a mustache?”

Lena stares wide-eyed, observing the interaction. Marcus stammers, “I’m sorry, Miss Danvers. You- You have me uhm… mistaken for someone else. My name is Marcus, not Kale L.”

Kara’s peal of laughter is light as cotton candy and it ricochets off all four walls in the elevator. She fidgets with her glasses and then to her driver’s increasing discomfort, Kara decidedly wraps her arms around his neck.

“Nu-huh. Are you Superman? Lena, why is Superman not wearing his suit?”

She doesn’t stop to wait for a response because Kara strange whispers cause Marcus to stammer a negative, his dark expressive eyes darting back at Lena helplessly.

“Are you working undercover? It must be a big operation. This is so cool. What are you roleplaying as? Can I join too??”

That was it. Lena lets loose a soft chuckle that grows at the sight of her driver trying to manage the blonde reporter in his arms. She places her arm on Kara’s forearm. “Kara, this is Marcus, my chauffeur.”

 

* * *

 

Lena feels like she’s intruding after fumbling for the light switch in the apartment. They are friendly, warm, and inviting - a sharp contrast to her own; cold, stylish, professional like they came straight out of a furniture catalog. It probably did. She never really found the time to decorate since the re-branding of L-Corp and repairing the reputation were far more important than something so trivial.

She admires Kara’s wide open windows as soft pastel curtains billow and flutter about. Envious because she has to guard her privacy from peeping toms. She avoids the windows, preferring to draw the curtains to prevent any assassination attempts on her life always making sure all her windows are tinted and bulletproof.

Kara’s place is small but it looks and _feels_ so homely, with scattered colored cushions and little cute trinkets parked at the corners of the shelves. Photographs of her as a child with her sister, Alex. There’s more photos of Kara smiling brightly with her friends - the short tech guy - Winn and the reputable Jimmy Olsen. Lena tries not to think of her own photo frames placed down and hidden in the desk drawers.

Marcus decides Kara is awake now, probably still very drunk, but not in need of being carried. Lena thanks him and sends him off. He leaves her with a puppy version of drunk Kara Danvers, who has decided this was the best time to have ice cream and pizza in the middle of the night.

Lena sighs and rolls up her sleeves after giving up on the inevitable that Kara is not any person who will obediently drink cups of water or head into the bathroom to vomit. She goes into the bedroom and finds some clothes that are comfier than her own office attire. When she returns, she discovers that her friend has finally passed out on the couch with a melting ice cream carton slanted sideways in her hand. Lena cleans up the living area as best as she can and tries one last time to get Kara into bed, who mumbles the oddest things in her sleep.

She succeeds, but just barely.

Hauling Kara up from the couch and dragging her into the bedroom robs Lena of the last vestiges of her strength. Kara merely grunts and rolls over in bed, her glasses smashed against the pillow. Lena quirks a tiny smile and reaches over to ~~remove~~ ply the glasses away from Kara’s face. It’s so strange to know Kara is always so meticulous and tidy, yet the lens of her glasses say the complete opposite. They’re chocked full of fingerprints and dirt marks. How is it possible to even see clearly through them?

_Unless... she doesn’t need them._

Glancing over to Kara snoring quietly, she tugs the hair band until it’s almost loose and lets out a soft gasp.

“There she is.”

Her only friend in National City, who has taken a chance with her, is the very same super heroine guarding it. Supergirl has been right under her nose and all it takes a pair of glasses and a ponytail, not to mention the cute, adorable outfits she piles on.

And then, everything clicks. The drunken silliness in the elevators. Superman is her cousin. She has always assumed that if Kara Danvers wasn’t writing about L-Corp, she was writing about Supergirl. In every news article, Kara has undoubtedly captured the action in each of her articles. It always felt like she was right there, thick in the action, when reading the story. And the reporter ducks her head at the compliment, and comments saying that she just has very good sources.

She should have realized it back then, at the gala, meeting with Kara and her sister, Agent Danvers. How close they stood together; how Kara and Supergirl are never in the same room. She had her friend Winn distract Lena, just so she could change into Supergirl; or how both people have the same circle of friends that she constantly sees.

Lena’s bone-tired fatigue finally hits her. It’s the middle of the night. Carefully, she takes the other end of the bed and curls up next to Kara. She’s known Kryptonians run much hotter than humans do, through Lex’s detailed notes. However, she never thought she would experience it firsthand. She’s like a human furnace. Warm like the morning sun, wrapping around her body whenever she goes for a jog.

 

* * *

 

She dreams of sunflowers and picnics, of puppies chasing and playing on top of a hillside. The younger version of herself and Lex teaching her how to fly a kite. Birds chirp in the background and then a quiet click pops up of nothing. Lex is still talking but Lena hears the soft pitter-patter of footsteps coming closer.

The gentle rustling of leaves fade and melt away, leaving Lena the sense of waking up from a nice dream. She stirs and opens her eyes.

It’s morning. Lena sees the soft glow of sunlight greeting her, as well as the cold barrel of the pistol aimed at her head.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, if you enjoyed this fic and like to find out more. Click on to the next fic for its subsequent sequels. I've decided to write mini one-shots that can be intertwined together instead of churning out one crazy story plot.
> 
> Thanks for reading~


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